


i'm the queen of rock n roll

by flowercrownfemme



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 90s fashion, ABBA, Alternate Universe - 1990s, Bugles, Butch Niall, Butch/Femme Dynamics, F/F, Fluff, Gay Feelings, Hating Men, Lots of Pining and Confusion, Punk AU, Recreational Drug Use, Riot Grrrl AU, Riot Grrrl Music, Windmill Daddy Louis, Zines, everyone's a lesbian, mini golf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 13:36:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16409441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowercrownfemme/pseuds/flowercrownfemme
Summary: The kiss couldn’t have lasted more than a second or two, and half of Louis’ mind was focused on bringing her guitar back around to the front without maiming anyone with it, but she was fairly certain it was the best kiss of her life - or at the very least, the best stage kiss of her life. Most of the girls she kissed on stage let her do it for the few seconds of fame, or as something to laugh at later, their lips stiff and emotionless, but this one felt more like a kiss than an act. The girl opened up to her immediately, swiping her tongue over Louis’ bottom lip so quick she almost missed it, her fingers wrapping around Louis’ elbow and pulling her closer even as she was pulled back by the end of Liam’s drum solo. Louis scrambled to press her fingers back into the strings of her guitar, fumbling with her pick when she saw the girl lick her own lips, flushed face darkening.In which Louis is in love with two girls she doesn't know - one she's never met and one she kissed upon first sight - and it takes a lot of zines and weed and Bugles for her to figure it all out.(Or, it's 1993 in Olympia and everyone's just a useless lesbian with a riot grrrl band.)





	1. in her kiss i taste the revolution

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is part of the Girl Direction Fic Fest and my prompt was:  
> "90s punk/riot grrl AU where it’s person A’s first show/she’s new to the scene and person B (who’s been around a while, maybe is in a band/makes zines/etc) takes person A under her wing"  
> which I used semi-loosely but hopefully somewhat adequately?  
> It made me think of this one part of the third issue of the Girl Germs zine where one of the authors talked about finding a Girly Sound tape and about how much she loved it and how it sounded so different from anything she'd heard before and how she didn't know who the girl was who made it but she really wanted to be her friend and start a band with her and then a few years later Liz Phair (Girly Sound) was nominated for a Grammy and I just think it's really cool seeing girls inspiring each other and feeling kinship without ever meeting and I think it's really cool having a physical record of that.  
> Anyway, that zine kind of inspired the bulk of this fic and the first zine quote I wrote is heavily influenced by it. I can't find that page online anywhere but I might scan my copy and post it on my tumblr once authors are revealed if anyone would be interested in reading it. Cherry Pop is very much modeled after Girly Sound and also Heavens to Betsy and Julie Ruin (the original tape) and Louis' band is supposed to be more Bratmobile/The Butchies/Bikini Kill.  
> <3 <3 <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song:  
> [Rebel Girl by Bikini Kill](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L0oeqAQ1qE8)

_cherry pop is this girl who is her own band and she makes songs in her room all by herself. or at least that’s how i picture her when i listen to her tapes. she might be in the living room sitting with her best friend or her boy/girlfriend or she could be in her bathtub or something but i think she’s probably in her bedroom. i stole her tape from zayn who copied hers from liam’s and i think liam got hers from a frie nd who knows cherry pop. i heard one of her (c.p.’s) songs on this mix tape a few months ago and fell in love with it. she talks about masterbating and crying but it’s not in that angry gross out way that everyo ne else does when they talk about that stuff, like it’s not a challenge of ‘i’m gonna talk about sex and your gonna have to listen to it!!!’ it’s more like she’s writing about her day in her diary and she’s not leaving anything out. it’s like ‘i went 2 the store cuz i needed tampons and i wanted some cheez-itz and then i got home and masterbated and after i came i watched some cartoons and called my mom and cried cuz i miss her’ and it’s so real and normal and i wish i could write stuff like that._

_it makes me want to throw away every song i’ve ever written and just start singing my grocery lists and the letters i write to my fre friends. i think c.p. must live near olympia cuz i don’t think liam knows anybody outside of olympia and she doesn’t know c.p. but she knows somebody who knows somebody who does. she won’t help me get in contact with her though cuz she said itd be weird and she doesn’t even know who c.p. is but i really want to be her friend and maybe make a band with her where we sing about mundane stuff and use looping pedals so it sounds like we’re playing 100 guitars at once._

 

\- Louis Tomlinson _, The Search for Cherry Pop ,_ Vol. 1

 

 

 

In the summer of 1993 Olympia was abuzz with energy and music and change and Louis Tomlinson was sure that she was the queen bee of this humming hive. Or at least she felt like it when she was onstage, a gleaming red Fender strapped across her chest and a pair of beat up Doc Martins laced on her feet. She was made out of feedback and noise, a pounding heartbeat and blistering bleeding fingers. She was shredded vocal chords and broken crackling screams, untouchable and too much to handle. She looked out on the crowd, a wave of red-faced sweaty girls packed like sardines in the front and a flock of boys in the back looking out of their element. Maybe it was the way that Louis sneered at any of them who got near or the way that most of the girls were holding hands and presenting a united front but the boys stayed in their place and didn’t try to take the floor back like they did at most of the shows Louis went to. She was glad - the boys always found a way to ruin everything.

 

“Once again we are The Viol-Tits and this is gonna be our last song,” Louis said when the crowd died down, wrapping her fingers around the mic and looking around at the crowd. “Stick around ‘cause PaperCunt will be up next.”

 

Liam broke into a fast drum beat and Louis let a loud stream of buzzing sound escape from her amp, rocking around to Zayn’s thumping bassline. She flicked her head to clear the sweat from her eyes and pressed her lips against the mic.

 

“ _My mother told me I should go and get some therapy,_ ” she sang, letting the words lilt sarcastically as she scanned the crowd for the right girl. “ _I asked the doctor, ‘Can you find out what is wrong with me?_ ’”

 

She made eye contact with a blonde girl just to her left who looked promising, but the girl quickly looked away and ducked her head so Louis moved on.

 

“ _I don’t know why I wanna be with ev’ry girl I meet._ ”

 

A dark haired girl towards the middle gave her a short nod and Louis smiled until she saw another girl hanging off of her neck, lips moving against her ear. Louis returned the nod and continued her search.

 

“ _I can’t control it, yeah I know it’s taking over me_.”

 

There! Pushing through the swarm of bodies and tilting her head to see the stage better was the perfect girl. She had a mop of curly hair and wide eyes with full pink lips and she was staring straight at Louis, full of wonder.

 

“ _I’m going crazy…_ ”

 

Louis kept her eyes locked on the girl and inched closer to her side of the stage.

 

“ _Can’t contain it…_ ”

 

The girl knew she was looking now, but she hadn’t turned away. Louis raised her eyebrows in a silent question and the girl’s lips turned up in a shy smile.

 

“ _Tell me just what I should do_.”

 

As the chorus broke out the crowd went wild, pushing each other around and dancing together as one big gelatinous unit. Louis kept keen watch on her girl, tracking her on the floor and laying in wait. She saw her getting knocked around but there was a big grin on her face and Louis could almost swear she saw a dimple flash once or twice in the low lighting. She kept watch all through the second verse and chorus until finally she’d made it to the bridge.

 

She let out one more long ringing chord and swung her guitar to rest against her back, the crowd’s interest suddenly peaked as Liam and Zayn continued on without her. She moved around the mic stand and nodded to the curly-haired girl, beckoning her forward. While the girl pushed forward to press her knees against the small stage Louis pulled the mic free and held it close to her mouth.

 

“ _We gotta live before we get older_ ,” she sang with only the drums and bass as accompaniment. She reached out to brush her fingers over the girl’s shoulder and kept their eyes locked. “ _Do what we like, we’ve got nothing to lose_.”

 

She leaned in towards the girl, mouthing out _Can I kiss you?_

 

The girl nodded.

 

“ _Shake off the weight of the world from your shoulders, we’ve got nothing to prove…_ ”

 

As Liam dove into an elongated fill Louis slid her hand up and pulled the girl in by the back of the neck, pressing their lips together and letting her ears fill with the shouts and cheers from all around them.

 

The kiss couldn’t have lasted more than a second or two, and half of Louis’ mind was focused on bringing her guitar back around to the front without maiming anyone with it, but she was fairly certain it was the best kiss of her life - or at the very least, the best stage kiss of her life. Most of the girls she kissed on stage let her do it for the few seconds of fame, or as something to laugh at later, their lips stiff and emotionless, but this one felt more like a kiss than an act. The girl opened up to her immediately, swiping her tongue over Louis’ bottom lip so quick she almost missed it, her fingers wrapping around Louis’ elbow and pulling her closer even as she was pulled back by the end of Liam’s solo. Louis scrambled to press her fingers back into the strings of her guitar, fumbling with her pick when she saw the girl lick her own lips, flushed face darkening.

 

“ _I said ‘Hey, it’s alright…’_ ”

 

 

 

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” Zayn shook her head, blowing smoke out of the open window and drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. “If the kiss was really that good you should have found her when you got off stage and kissed her again. Or, like, kept kissing her and ended our set right there if you thought it was gonna be the best kiss of your fucking life.”

 

“I didn’t know she was gonna fucking disappear!” Louis retorted, kicking her feet on the dashboard and banging her head back against the headrest. “I thought I’d at least set my fucking guitar down before I went and _proposed_ to her! God, I should have proposed to her. Then I’d be with her right now planning our gay-ass wedding and learning what her name is and all that.”

 

“Maybe we can still find her,” Liam suggested, leaning forward from the back where she was crammed in with all their instruments and Louis’ skateboard. “Olympia’s not _that_ big, I’m sure she’ll be at other shows.”

 

“But what if she’s not,” Louis groaned, arching her back and twisting dramatically in her seat, “and I’m doomed to a life of pathetic gay pining for a girl I kissed for less than a second?”

 

“Then we’ll find you another girl who you can kiss for more than a second,” Liam reasoned, petting Louis’ head placatingly. Louis shook her off and turned towards Zayn, her cheek pressed against the seat and her lip pushed out in her best pout.

 

“Can I put the tape on? Please, Zaynie?”

 

“How are you not sick of it?” Zayn frowned, taking another drag of her cigarette. “I swear you haven’t listened to anything else in, like, months.”

 

“ _Pleeeeeease?_ ” Louis pleaded, lacing her fingers and holding them under her chin. “It’ll make me feel better - it’s my favorite! It’ll remind me that there’s other women in the world for me to love!”

 

“Fine,” Zayn sighed, ejecting the Buzzcocks tape that had been playing. Louis shoved her hand into her backpack on the floor and pulled out a tape with a hand-drawn cover, filled with hearts and Louis’ own sloppy handwriting spelling out _Cherry Pop_. She fed it into the tape deck and let out a dreamy sigh as the pegs started turning. She turned up the volume dial and slumped over with her head hanging half out the window, looking out at the stars and the street lamps and the convenience stores they passed. She let the distorted low-fi guitar sound fill her up and trail behind them on the highway, overflowing from the rolled-down windows. The vocals came in smokey and ghostly and honest and Louis let her eyes flutter shut as the words rattled around in her brain.

 

“ _Who’s that shadow holding me hostage? I’ve been here for days…_ ”

 

“God,” Louis groaned, grinding her forehead into the car door. “She’s so hot. I think I’m in love.”

 

“With who?” Zayn asked, “Cherry Pop or your mystery kiss girl?”

 

“Cherry Pop. Kiss Girl. Both, maybe. She was so pretty, all curly and sweet looking. And I don’t even know what C.P. looks like but I’m in love with her and that’s gotta be, like, the purest form of love, doesn’t it? I’ve never even met her but she’s the girl of my dreams. Like, it’s not fair for her to just say all this stuff in her songs and be so casual about it like it’s not ruining my life. I don’t think it’s fair for anyone to expect me to, like, function normally when C.P. is singing about fucking girls with that fucking _voice_ , like, it’s inhumane. Truly.”

 

“Sorry, Lou,” Liam tutted, reaching forward to try and pet Louis’ hair again. She let her this time, pushing back into the touch.

 

“No one should expect me to function when girls exist in general,” Louis whined. “It’s not fair. I could barely even finish the song tonight cause I was trying to watch Kiss Girl and I _still_ fucking lost her. There should be laws in place. Special lesbian privileges that excuse you from everyday life so you can spend more time looking at girls.”

 

“Maybe some day when you’re president,” Zayn placated. “You can make all the stupid gay laws you want.”

 

“Would you vote for me?” Louis asked, turning her head hopefully.

 

“Maybe,” Zayn shrugged. “Depends who you’re running against.”

 

Louis flipped her off, tucking her head back against the door and letting Cherry Pop’s hazy voice wash over her like a wave.

 


	2. if that girl comes my way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song:  
> [P.U.N.K. Girl by Heavenly](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UVwE7T5Tyeg)

_ sometimes listening to cherry pop kind of feels like having someone sing my own thoughts back at me, ya  know? like she says all the same stuff i think about all the time but she says it so muhc better then i ever could and i kind of wish i could make everyone i meet listen to her  _ _ taoe  _ _  tape before they talk to me cuz then they’d like know me already. like she’d got songs about fucking and smoking weed and having sexual fantasies about cartoon characters which is all relatable but then she’s got these songs about like feeling weird and different in a way that is sometimes good and sometimes awful like it’s good when you’re kissing a girl but it’s bad when the girls in middle school called you a dyke and kicked you out of the locker r oom so sometimes you feel kinda lucky and other times you kinda wish you could be normal. _

_ i hope c.p. feels good and normal right now. like if i ever get to meet her i think i’d just wanna thank her because when i listen to her tape i feel good and i feel not as weird and i hope she feels that way too. _

-Louis Tomlinson,  The _ Search for Cherry Pop, _ Vol. 3

 

Louis had been working on her latest  _ Cherry Pop _ zine all afternoon and her inspiration was running dry. She was surrounded by magazine clippings and stickers and glue sticks and her fingers were probably permanently stained with typewriter ink. She was trying to piece together her latest artist rendering of what C.P. might look like - always a grotesque Frankenstein-type collage of model’s features cut from teen mags and catalogues that always ended up as a dark-haired girl with Drew Barrymore’s eyes and Monica Bellucci’s lips - but she couldn’t find the right nose to fit her latest masterpiece/nightmare and she’d already stolen a few of her roommate Stevie’s magazines to cut up and was losing hope. Finally, she set down her scissors and pushed back from her small wooden desk, resigned to taking a break and maybe looking for a few more sources while she was out. She grabbed her skateboard from the front hall and set off towards the nearest stretch of shops, tying her jacket around her waist as she went.

The heat of summer had burned away the cloud cover that usually blanketed Olympia and Louis relished in the sunlight that beat down on her as she glided down the street. In a few months the city would be a haze of rain and gloom and winter coats. Louis stretched out her arms, letting the warm breeze dance over her bare skin and pull at the loose fabric of her tank top. She had to take advantage of the warmth while she could.

After a quick stop in a tiny sandwich shop Louis was walking lazily with her skateboard tucked under one arm, her other hand shoved deep within a bag of crinkle-cut potato chips. There was a magazine stand up ahead that would sometimes let her take old unsold magazines for free but only if the owner was in a particularly good mood. Louis hoped that it was a good mood day and not a buy-something-or-go-away kind of day. She paused in front of the tiny record store in the middle of the street and hesitated before turning inside, deciding to take a short detour.

There was music all around her as she stepped into the store, shelved on the walls and pouring through the speakers, and she matched her footsteps to the beat of the song. She crumpled up her empty chip bag as she passed the front counter, sending a quick nod to the boy at the register as she moved back towards the cassette tapes, and shoved the bag into her jacket pocket with a crisp crinkle of plastic, her skateboard left at the door. The shop was filled with wooden shelves and dim lights, the front windows boarded up with posters and fliers, and it always felt slightly abandoned inside - like somewhere you weren’t supposed to be. Louis liked it, even if they didn’t always have the widest selection and even if she couldn’t always read the backs of the albums in the low lighting. She’d spent the summer she was fourteen almost exclusively in this record store, studying every album they had and trying her best to commit them all to memory.

She flicked through the cassettes, trying to find any that she hadn’t seen before and picking out the ones she’d almost bought on her last visit. She was trying to decide between two when she heard a voice trying to shout over the music.

“Do you have any Abba records?”

Louis smirked, turning to look over her shoulder at the cashier who was giving the girl in front of him an unimpressed look.

“ _ Abba _ ,” the girl repeated louder, seemingly worried that he hadn’t heard her. “You know, like - Like _ Abba _ .”

The boy turned back to his skater magazine with a roll of his eyes and Louis could see the girl’s shoulders slump in defeat.

“It’s over here,” Louis called, already halfway back to the counter with one hand pointing towards the ‘A’ section of the vinyl.

The girl turned, her eyes wide, and Louis faltered mid-step.

It was her.

Kiss Girl.

In real-not-moshpit-life.

“Um,” the girl said, looking as surprised as Louis felt (only a thousand times prettier). “Abba?”

“Abba,” Louis parroted, her brain having disconnected with her mouth. “It’s… ‘A’.”

“Oh,” she said, a small crease forming between her eyebrows. “Of course.”

“Here,” Louis supplied, finally sputtering back into gear and leading the girl to the aforementioned section. “They don’t label anything very well, like see the tiny little ‘A’ card here? Who thought it was a good idea to label a whole section with a blue marker on black construction paper? It’s idiotic. I didn’t even realize anything  _ was _ labeled until I’d been coming here for years. I thought it was just a free-for-all. But, you know, even in chaos you can find order.”

She was flipping through the records with a practiced ease, letting out a bubbling stream of words as she went, trying to ignore the overwhelming feeling of having the girl’s eyes on her again.

“It still sucks. Like I like the store but the employees are all idiots. They only ever hire boys, you know? I applied once when I was sixteen but they said I was too young even though I asked one guy later and he said he was only fifteen so I think it’s definitely a sexist thing and I’d probably, like, boycott the store or something but then I’d have to go across town for music and the prices are usually lower here so you’ve kind of got to pick your battles, yeah?”

“Yeah,” the girl nodded, coming up beside Louis to see the vinyl she’d pulled out.

“They don’t have a whole lot of Abba - or anything good for that matter - but they’ve got a few live albums and a couple of comps. Is there a particular song you’re looking for? It might be on one of these.”

The girl shrugged, turning over one of the albums to look over the back.

“It’s really stupid that they don’t carry a wider range of stuff, but they only really care about the boy-rock stuff. Like if you were a guy and you’d asked about Led Zeppelin or like Black Sabbath or some shit he’d have been all ‘Oh! Let me help you with that! It’s right over here next to my trophy for Biggest Douchebag that I got from the Committee Of Snobby Music Assholes!’ but you’re a girl and you wanted girl music so he, like, totally ignored you even though later he’s probably gonna try and fuck you.”

The girl was laughing, even though she was trying to hide it, and she kept glancing back to where the boy at the counter was glaring at them. Louis decided that she liked making Kiss Girl laugh and that if saying ‘fuck’ made that happen than she’d be saying ‘fuck’ a lot more.

“Don’t fuck him though, okay? Like, you can fuck whoever you want but please tell me you’re not one of those girls who lets guys act all shitty to them and then still lets them fuck them. That makes me really sad.”

“I wasn’t planning to -” the girl dropped her voice, still smiling in amusement, “I wasn’t gonna  _ fuck _ him. He’s very much not my type.”

“Okay, good,” Louis nodded. “You know you don’t have to whisper when you say ‘fuck.’ Like, I’m pretty sure there’s worse curse words on, like, half the posters in here.”

The girl just shrugged again, hugging  _ The Singles _ to her chest.

“I didn’t wanna be rude.”

“Well,” Louis said, flipping through the Beach Boys and not paying enough attention to the words coming out of her own mouth, “I’m still glad you’re not gonna fuck him. If I remember right you’re a decent kisser and it would suck to waste that all on gross pimply boys.”

“You too,” the girl said, tucking her chin against her chest shyly. “Kissing, I mean. You’re good at it.”

“Oh,” Louis said, looking up from the copy of  _ Pet Sounds _ in her hand at the blushing girl beside her. “Thanks.”

_ I’m even better at it off stage _ , she wanted to say.  _ Would you like a demonstration? _

“I don’t think I’ve seen you at any other shows before,” she said instead.

“Yeah, um, I just moved to town?” the girl told her, her inflection turning it into a valley girl-like question. “I’m living with my friend but I haven’t really gotten out much yet.”

“Well, welcome to Olympia,” Louis grinned, circling back toward the cassettes and letting the girl follow her, Abba record still in hand. “I’m Louis by the way.”

“Harry.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Louis smiled, flicking her fringe out of one eye. “Do you have any preference between Patti Smith and Carole King, Harriet? I can’t decide which tape to get.”

“It’s just Harry,” Harry said, taking the two tapes that Louis had held up and studying them very seriously. “That’s hard. They’re both, like, goddesses of music. Do you really not own  _ Tapestry _ already? That’s, like, a staple.”

Louis shrugged.

“So I’ve been told, Harriet, but I’ve never gotten around to it.”

“Get the Patti tape,” Harry told her with an air of finality. “You can borrow my copy of  _ Tapestry _ .”

“Alright then,” Louis gave a mock salute, taking the Patti Smith tape and marching to the counter. “Just this one for today, please.”

The boy rang her up wearily, glancing back at Harry every few seconds.

Harry brushed her fingers over Louis’ elbow when she took her change, asking, “Wait for me outside, yeah?”

“Of course,” Louis grinned, fitting the tape and her change into the pocket of her shorts. As she opened the door she turned and called to the cashier. “She’s not gonna fuck you, by the way. She already said.”

She laughed at the glare he gave her and at the scandalized blush that was blooming on Harry’s face. She waved to them both and let the door swing shut behind her.

“Oh my god,” Harry laughed when she tumbled out the door a minute later. “I can’t believe you.”

“Well?” Louis asked, leaning into the taller girl. “Did he try and fuck you?”

“Shut up,” Harry screeched, falling against her.

“Did he?” Louis asked eagerly. “Oh my god, he  _ did _ .”

“He said,” Harry began, falling into a deep-voiced imitation of the boy, “‘Are you and the little one, like, a package deal or something?’”

Louis crowed, grabbing Harry’s forearm as though they’d been friends for years.

“And what’d you say?”

“I said ‘yes’ of course!”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Louis said gleefully, tipping her head back towards the sun. “See? I fucking  _ told _ you!”

“You did,” Harry agreed, giggling.

“God, I hate boys,” Louis laughed, starting to walk down the street, the sides of her jacket billowing around her. “Except for my brothers. I love them, but even they can be awful sometimes. Do you have any brothers?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, running to get on the side of Louis that wasn’t holding her skateboard. “I’ve got an older brother.”

“I’ve got  _ five _ younger brothers,” Louis said, widening her eyes dramatically. “I don’t know how my mom does it. If I were her I’d have hired a nanny or something. She’s a saint, I swear.”

“Are any of them babies?” Harry asked, her face brightening.

“Toddlers,” Louis nodded. “The younger twins - those run in my family - one of them’s a girl. My only sister. They both look like little angels but they act like absolute monsters.”

Harry ooh’d, skipping a bit as she walked.

“I love babies,” she said sweetly. “I keep bugging my brother about when he and his girlfriend are gonna give me a bunch of nieces and nephews. I can’t wait to be an aunt.”

“Little easier than parenthood?” Louis asked wryly. “Don’t have to deal with all the dirty diapers and scraped knees?”

“Well I can’t wait for those parts either,” Harry continued. “I like all of it, really. I just feel like babies are better than everyone else sometimes, you know? Like they haven’t had time to hate anyone yet and they always just trust you right away. There’s something so good about that. Grownups are never like that. By the time you meet someone they’ve already got this whole idea of you in your head and even if you’re nothing like that really they’re gonna keep thinking of you like that all because of what they thought when they saw you, before you’d even opened your mouth. Babies just care if you’re nice to them.”

“Yeah,” Louis nodded. She wanted Harry to keep talking. She had a syrupy kind of a voice, sort of deep for a girl but smooth and dark and soothing. Louis wanted Harry to talk forever.

They kept walking, ducking into thrift stores and small boutiques, and Louis kept asking questions. She asked about where Harry lived before she moved to Olympia and what records made her cry and who her favorite teacher was growing up and in no time at all the sun was setting and they were sitting on the curb outside of a corner drugstore licking ice-cream cones and rolling Louis’ skateboard under their feet, their knees bent up and pressed together to squeeze both of their feet onto the board.

“How about a classic,” Louis asked, ducking her head to lick up the ice-cream that was melting down her wrist. “Stuck on a desert island. What books do you bring?”

“You’ve asked me so many questions,” Harry laughed, leaning back on one elbow and squinting into the sunset. “Why don’t you answer some?”

“Sorry,” Louis conceded. “I hate silence.”

“Always?” Harry asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Maybe not always,” Louis shrugged, “like if it’s someone you’re really comfortable with and you can just sit in silence together I think that can be nice, but if it’s someone I like then I probably like their opinions and I like how they think so I want to know more about what they think and I just want to listen to them talk and if we’re not talking then I’d probably want to be listening to music because I like music and I like sharing music with people and I like hearing their opinions on music so I’d be asking what they think and then it all circles back around to talking again so yeah. I don’t really do silence very often.”

“Well let’s try,” Harry smiled, flexing her ankle so that the skateboard dipped back and forth under their feet. “I wanna see how long you can stand silence for.”

“Alright,” Louis nodded, biting into the cone of her ice-cream with a crunch. Harry wrinkled her nose but didn’t say anything. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, basking in what little sunlight was left for the day. It seemed to make her glow, like some ethereal being, and Louis felt awed by the sight of her. The sunlight caught on her eyelashes, turning them into soft fans of gold, and illuminated her skin with a bright rosey glow.

Louis took a deep breath and closed her eyes as well, feeling the lingering warmth of the sun on her cheeks and the slight chill of night creeping in on the breeze. She could hear traffic and some kids yelling down the street and the spanish radio station playing inside the drug store.

“This is nice,” she said, smiling softly.

Harry laughed, startling her out of her revery.

“It  _ was _ .”

“Oh shit, I talked didn’t I?” Louis asked, wincing.

“Yeah,” Harry laughed. “You did.”

“Sorry,” Louis said. “I talk a lot already but when I get nervous I talk more and I end up rambling and talking forever and you should probably just tell me to shut up or I’ll end up telling you ever fact I know about, like, sperm whales or medieval pottery or something because the only facts I know are all useless but I’ll start listing them all if I run out of things to say.”

“That’s alright,” Harry smiled. “I like useless facts.”

“Oh,” Louis nodded. “Well that’s good then. I have a lot of them.”

“Do you like knock-knock jokes?”

“I don’t mind them,” Louis said, playing with the damp sticky paper that had been wrapped around her ice-cream cone. “I think everyone could use a good knock-knock joke every now and then.”

“I’ve got a lot of knock-knock jokes,” Harry told her, “but none of them are any good.”

“That’s even better,” Louis grinned. “Tell me one.”

“Umm,” Harry hummed, running through her repertoire in her head. “Knock-knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Atch.”

Louis made a pinched face, already predicting the punch-line.

“Atch-who?”

“Gesundheit!” Harry crowed, clapping her hands at her own genius.

“That was awful,” Louis proclaimed, despite her own laughter. “You’ve got more?”

“Tons!” Harry promised. “I could tell you more later if you wanted.”

“And how would you do that?” Louis asked, her eyes glinting.

“Well, maybe you could give me your phone number and I could call you with a new joke every day. Like a singing telegram only with knock-knock jokes on the phone.”

“You could do it in the morning,” Louis laughed. “Wake me up every day with one of your terrible jokes. I’ve always wanted my own personal wake up calls! Do you have a pen?”

Harry swung the tiny furry pink backpack from behind her back and pulled out a purple gel pen from within. Louis wrote out her phone number on the wrapper from her ice-cream, smiling when the ink from the pen glittered in the dimming light.

“There you go,” she said, handing it over to Harry with a flourish.

“Thank you,” Harry grinned, her dimples flashing brightly. “I should probably get home. I hate walking home in the dark.”

“I could walk you if you want,” Louis offered.

“That’s okay,” Harry shrugged. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“Alright,” Louis said, feeling a bit of awkwardness creep in. She didn’t want to stop talking to Harry yet. “Call me when you get home? I’ve got my board so I’ll probably be back before you, but if not you could leave a message.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded. Louis wasn’t sure if the permanent pink on her cheeks was from an extended bout of blushing or if she’d gotten sunburnt while they walked together. “So… I’ll see you?”

“Yeah,” Louis smiled. “See ya.”

They both waved and Harry started off towards her house while Louis stepped back onto her skateboard to go back to her own. Once she’d gotten a few blocks away and the sun had fully set Louis tucked her hands back in the pockets of her jacket, surprised to feel something hard and rectangular instead of the wrapper from her chips that she’d stuffed in them earlier. When she pulled the thing out of her pocket and held it up towards the streetlights she saw the cover of Carole King’s  _ Tapestry _ and couldn’t help but grin.

Harry was proving herself to be full of surprises.


	3. her words save me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song:  
> [She's Amazing by Team Dresch](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dOyS6PA2qWM)

_ c.p. always sings about stuff i didn’t know i needed to hear songs about. like she’s got some of those standard ‘i’ve got a crush on this girl and she has a boyfriend and i wish she’d break up with him and date me instead’ kind of songs (which r all really good and does them so well) but then she’s got songs about like not shaving her legs and feeling good about it at home but then feeling kind of weird as soon as anyone sees them. i mean that’s not what that whole song is about but she mentions it and i almost cried when i heard it cause i used to feel super self concious when i stopped shaving even though i really liked not doing it and i wish i had that song when i was 14 so i could have known that other grils feel like that two. and then she’d got songs about how she wants to be like tied up and shit but the way she writes it it’s not even like sexual? like of course it is but she makes it sound so romantic? and you can tell she’s not thinking about a boy in those songs and its so different from any song like that i’ve heard before and i hope she’s got a girlfriend who ties her up with like satin ribbons or whatever she likes and kisses her for hours. that’s probably weird. but i’m weird and so is c.p. so she might apreciate that. _

-Louis Tomlinson,  The _ Search for Cherry Pop, _ Vol. 2

 

“I swear you’re the reason the U-Haul stereotype even exists,” Zayn groaned, flopping back against Liam’s chest. She’d been smoking all night but apparently Louis was killing her buzz. “Can’t you at least wait to go on a date with a girl before you dedicate your entire life to her?”

“I am  _ not _ dedicating my entire life to her,” Louis growled, stealing the joint from between Zayn’s fingers and trying to talk over the noise of the party going all around them. “The majority of my heart, maybe. But you haven’t seen her. She’s like,  _ God _ , she’s the love of my life.”

“I thought Cherry Pop was the love of your life?” Liam asked, wrapping one arm around Zayn’s belly and holding her close.

“Eh,” Louis waved her off. “I think your life can have more than one great love in it. And Cherry Pop is like, a fantasy you know? Like yeah, if she suddenly appeared out of thin air and asked me to marry her I’d already be calling every minister in the state, but she’s not  _ real _ . It’s like when Liam had that big crush on the New Kids On The Block guy - ”

“ _ Hey! _ ” Liam whined, pushing her face into Zayn’s hair. “I thought we agreed to pretend that never happened.”

“That was an important phase of your life and I don’t think we should ignore it,” Louis sniffed matter-of-factly. “But, like, it’s like that. You got to build a whole fantasy around him and imagine your wedding and all that but you kind of knew the whole time that it wasn’t real and that you were never gonna actually meet him and I want something  _ real _ . I want Harry. She’s here and she’s real and I’ve already kissed her once and I really want to do it again.”

“So kiss her,” Zayn said, taking the joint back and taking a long pull from it.

“But what if she’s not even  _ gay? _ ” Louis wailed, flopping around in the purple vinyl bean-bag chair she’d been occupying all night. “Like what if this is another Amber McCoy situation and she’s been straight this whole time?”

“She’s probably not,” Zayn told her. “Like, none of the regulars at our shows are straight.”

“But she’s not a regular,” Louis pointed out. “That was the only show of ours she’s ever been to. And it’s not like everyone there is necessarily  _ gay _ . All the girls now are, like, bi or whatever. Or at least they  _ say _ their bi long enough to hook up and then as soon as they cum they’re back with their boyfriends. I don’t want to just make her cum. I mean I do, but like, in her heart.”

“You wanna make her heart cum?” Liam asked, frowning.

“Yeah,” Louis nodded sagely. “Every fucking night.”

“You’re so fucking weird,” Zayn grumbled, pushing further back against Liam as though it could be physically possible to get any closer. As if Louis was draining her of life force and Liam was the only thing keeping her alive. “Go. Mingle. Find some more weed. I’m gonna make-out with my girlfriend now and I don’t wanna hear anymore about your weird heart orgasm fetishes.”

“It’s not - ” Louis started, frowning when she saw that Zayn was already turning to straddle Liam, pressing her back into the love seat. “Gross.”

Zayn flipped her off over her shoulder, busy starting new hickeys across Liam’s throat.

“Fine, I guess I’ll just go find some new best friends,” Louis grumbled, pulling herself out of the bean-bag with a good deal of difficulty. “Get myself a new band. Call it The Louis Project. Only sing songs about how my old bandmates never really appreciated me while they had me.”

“Sounds great,” Zayn said before attaching her mouth back to Liam’s.

“I hate you both.”

 

It wasn’t the wildest party Louis had ever been to by far and as she made her way to the kitchen she thought that it almost seemed grown up. The music wasn’t ear-shattering and someone had put on a Go-Go’s record so it was a little mellower than some of the Fugazi-heavy parties she’d become used to. Plus there was a cheese platter, even if the crackers were Ritz and the cheese was a little rubbery. Perrie and Jade knew how to entertain.

Once she had a solo cup of steadily-warming beer in her hand Louis squeezed herself into a child-size chair in the living room and settled in to people watch. The music was good and the people were all interesting and they’d run out of crackers in the kitchen but there was still a whole pile of little cheese cubes so Louis had grabbed a handful of those. She could have a good time without Zayn and Liam, and she was determined to prove that fact. She munched on a few pieces of cheese and wriggled her knees where they were pressed up in front of her from the low seat of her chair. She made small talk with the blue-haired girl who was sitting on the floor next to her until the girl got pulled into a round of beer pong in the backyard and Louis was left alone again. She starting shifting her gaze around the other party guests, watching the girls in the corner who were painting each other’s toenails and the boy who was unsuccessfully trying to chat up some girls by explaining his own views on feminism. Finally she landed on the butch across the coffee table from her who was having much more success in her flirting.

The girl was wearing cuffed blue jeans and a denim button-down shirt tucked into a big black belt, her boot resting on the arm of the couch as she leaned over the girls sitting in front of her - charming the shit out of them if their smiling blushing faces were anything to go by. When the girl reached up to ruffle her bleached-white hair Louis swore she saw the muscles flex under the cuff of her shirt sleeve and the girls on the couch seemed to swoon.

Louis was impressed, wondering what the girl’s secret was and how she’d been able to have two strangers completely mesmerized by her in what appeared to be a fairly short amount of time.

“No no no I’m serious!” the girl chuckled, her smile wide and her teeth a little crooked. Her elbow was settled on one knee and she let her fingers fall down to brush over the nearest girl’s arm. “As if I don’t know how to change the strings on my own guitar! I swear, I wanted to hit him over the head with it.”

Louis shuffled forward in her seat, trying to listen in without being too obvious.

“Why didn’t you?” one of the girls giggled, all but batting her eyelashes.

“Too many witnesses,” the blonde said wryly. “Sometimes you gotta get your revenge by just proving how much better you are. Once we finally got set up and I started playing he finally shut up. But then of course as soon as I finished he was trying to quiz me on how many Jimi Hendrix songs I knew like I had to pass a test before he could admit that I’m a good guitar player. I don’t think men should be allowed to play guitar. It’s not healthy for them.”

“You’re better than any of the boy guitar players I know anyway,” the girl on the right promised, her eyes big and yearning.

“That’s sweet of you,” the blonde laughed, her skin warm and rosey, “but you haven’t even heard me play.”

“I don’t have to!” she insisted. “It’s an aura thing. You’ve got that air about you, like you’d be  _ good with your hands. _ ”

Louis held back a snort but the blonde let her own fly free, covering it up half heartedly with a cough.

“Here,” she said, dipping her fingers into the breast pocket of her shirt and producing a cassette tape that she held up for them to see. “This is a split I did with my friend. It’s a little low-fi and it’s just me on guitar and vocals but you can give it a listen.”

As the girls both reached for the tape Louis strained her eyes to read the writing on it, freezing when she made out the letters.

_SIDE A -_ _CHERRY POP_

Cherry Pop.

The elusive and mysterious love of Louis’ life.

The woman she’d been dreaming about and lusting over for months.

The girl standing just four feet away.

Shit.

Louis lurched to her feet, suddenly realizing how empty her beer cup was and how light her head felt. 

“You alright, dude?”

There was a firm hand on her upper arm, steadying her where she had been swaying. She looked up into the bright blue eyes of the girl -  _ Cherry Pop _ \- and blanched.

“I - ” she stammered, feeling out of breath. “Yeah, I - Um,  _ thank you. _ ”

The girl gave her an odd look and turned back to the girls on the couch, allowing Louis to flee.

“Zayn!” she shouted as soon as she was out of the sitting room. She raced down the hall to the game room she’d left the couple in before. “Liam! Holy shit!”

She threw herself on top of them, making both girls groan at the sudden weight.

“Holy  _ shit _ it’s  _ her! _ ”

“What the fuck, Louis?” Zayn grumbled, shoving Louis onto the ground.

“Zayn!” she shrieked. “It’s _ her! _ ”

“Who?” Liam asked, peering over the edge of the love seat at her.

“Cherry Pop!” Louis hissed, latching onto Liam’s arm and pulling herself up to eye-level. “She’s here!”

“Are you sure?” Zayn frowned, batting Louis’ hands away.

“Yes! Of course I’m sure,” Louis insisted, slithering back onto the sofa and squishing them both against the cushions. “She said ‘this is my tape’ and then she pulled out a fucking Cherry Pop tape! I’m pretty sure I know what to deduce from that!”

“She gave you a tape?” Liam asked, her brown eyes widening further.

“Well, not  _ me _ necessarily,” Louis said flippantly. “She was flirting with these girls in the living room and she gave them one of her tapes. One of her  _ Cherry Pop _ tapes.”

“Did you even talk to her?” Zayn asked as though dreading the answer.

“Yes,” Louis told her haughtily. “Well, kind of. I almost fell and she helped me and I said thank you and then I ran away.”

“God, Louis,” Zayn groaned, kicking at her frustratedly. “Why can’t you ever just  _ talk _ to the girls you like?”

“I talk to tons of girls!” Louis insisted. “I talked to Harry for, like,  _ hours! _ ”

Suddenly she went pale, her eyes going wide.

“Oh shit.  _ Harry! _ ”

“You gonna have to tell her your imaginary girlfriend’s back in town?” Zayn asked, cuddling back into Liam.

“No!” Louis frowned. “I love her.”

“So what about Cherry Pop?” Liam asked.

“I love her _ too _ ,” Louis whined, twisting around in agony. “You don’t think Harry’d be okay with polygamy, do you?”

Zayn and Liam both shot her a look of exasperation.

“Fine,” Louis huffed. “Well I don’t know if Harry’s even gay or not so she might not even be an option. Like what if I go find Cherry Pop again and she tells me she’s madly in love with me but I turn her down and then I find out Harry doesn’t even  _ like _ me?”

“Sounds like you’ve made up your mind,” Zayn hummed, shoving Louis back off of the couch and returning to Liam’s arms. “Go find your weird music crush and get her to marry you.”

 

Louis didn’t end up finding Cherry Pop again.

She looked all over the house and asked everyone she passed if they’d seen a butch with blonde hair wearing all denim but nobody had any leads until she found one of the girls from the couch who told her that the blonde had already gone home with the other couch-girl. Louis walked home dejectedly, kicking her feet and moping all the way back to her apartment where she threw down her jacket and toed off her shoes, nearly missing the blinking light on her message machine. She pressed the button to play back her messages and pulled out a bowl for cereal while she listened to the message from her mom reminding her about Filip’s school play next Friday and asking her to call more. She was just adding in milk when the next message started to play.

_ “Hey, Lou! It’s me, Harry. Like, from yesterday. I forgot to call when I got home last night and I didn’t want to call you this morning ‘cause you said you wanted a wake up call but you didn’t say what time and also I think you were probably joking about that. I can still give you a joke of the day though! Knock-Knock…” _

There were a few seconds of silence and Louis grinned, screwing the cap back on her carton of milk.

_ “That doesn’t really work like this does it?” _

Louis could hear the pout in Harry’s voice and she wished she could see it.

_ “I’ve got other kinds of jokes too though. Like, umm.. A weasel walks into a bar and the bartender says ‘What can I get for you?’ …’Pop!’ goes the weasel!” _

Harry was laughing, tinny and hollow over the phone and Louis felt a sudden craving for the real thing. She wanted Harry’s laughter unfiltered, pouring straight into her ears.

_ “Did you get it? Pop goes the weasel? I always think that one’s funny but nobody ever laughs. I hope it made you laugh. Anyway. My roommate told me there’s a miniature golf course in town and I wanted to go but she’s busy this weekend and I don’t really know anyone else so I thought maybe you’d want to go? If you don’t have any plans? Umm, just call me back if you want to come. Or ignore this. It’s probably super long now. But, umm, I’ll talk to you later. Or not! Umm, bye... Oh! This is Harry by the way! I can’t remember if I mentioned that. Umm. Okay. Bye, Louis!” _

The machine beeped and Louis was left standing in silence with her cereal bowl in her hands and a painfully fond smile on her face. By the time she finally climbed into bed there was only one thought left in her head.

_ I’m fucked. _


	4. pictures of me on your bedroom door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song:  
> [I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone by Sleater-Kinney](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wWdnB1pLFAw)  
> (also the title song of the fic!)  
> <3 <3 <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my friend for being my weed consultant for this chapter because I'm straight edge and have no personal experience being stoned so it was very helpful to have someone to explain how it feels for them and also how bongs work (sometimes while they were currently stoned themself) <3  
> If there's any inaccuracies blame them :p  
> If you don't wanna read about HL smoking weed though maybe skip this chapter  
> <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

_ sometimes i feel like i should try and tone down the whole cherry pop thing. like i’m probably too obsessed with her but sometimes it’s kind of fun to be obcessed and like when i was younger all my friends were obcessed with like nkotb and d2 and shit but they were all boys and i didn’t like them but i pretended to even though i thought they were all gross so it’s kind of like cathardic to just really really love someone in a totaly lame 12 year old girl kind of way even if for me it’s this random girl singer i know nothing about instead of some teenie bopper with a poster over my bed. but like i never felt so connected to any musician when i was younger except maybe like david bowie or joan jett or something but even then it didn’t feel as personal as it does with c.p. like with her it feels almost like she’s my friend and we know everythng about eachother and we have almost everything in common except ive never met her and i probably never will and i’m just gonna be stuck here forever being obcessed with this faceless girl but like i think that’s kind of ok. _

_ - _  Louis Tomlinson,  The _ Search for Cherry Pop, _ Vol. 4

 

Louis couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so nervous.

She’d been lurking outside of the miniature golf course for what felt like an eternity, re-lacing her sneakers and fiddling with the zipper of her windbreaker. She kept glancing at the payphone across the street, contemplating calling Liam or Zayn even though she knew they’d both tell her to stop being such a wimp and just go inside. She felt in her pocket to see if she even had quarters for the phone and only felt a couple of pennies. Maybe she could get to Zayn’s place in time for a quick pep talk and still be back in time that she could pretend she’d just gotten stuck in traffic. Even though she didn’t own a car. And Harry probably knew that.

She’d probably been standing there too long.

It would be weird to go inside now, she decided. Her feet might not even be able to move anymore. They’d fused with the concrete sidewalk and the fire department would have to come pry her off the ground while Harry watched in anguish, her pretty green eyes filled with unshed tears as she asked the firefighters if Louis would make it out alive. Or she’d be doomed to stand in place outside of a miniature golf course alone for eternity.

“Louis?”

It was Harry.

Of course it was Harry, but Louis still felt her heart stutter in her chest as if she’d been shocked when she turned and saw the girl walking towards her from the entrance. She was wearing a petal pink bowling shirt with her name embroidered over the left breast and dark pink corduroy pants, a neon green scrunchie on her wrist and her curls wild and loose around her face. Louis could barely breathe. 

“Umm, hey,” Louis waved, still teetering in that same spot. “Hey, Harry.”

“Are you okay?” Harry asked uncertainty, brushing her fingers over Louis’ sleeve in a way that made her brain feel like television static. “I was waiting by the counter but you didn’t come in. I thought we said we’d meet there last night?”

“Oh!” Louis exclaimed, thumping herself on the head and laughing fakely as though she’d forgotten. “Oops! I thought you might’ve said, uh, outside. So. Yeah.”

“Oh no,” Harry frowned, looking genuinely sorry about Louis’ made-up miscommunication. “Sorry about that. At least we’re here now, right?”

“Yeah,” Louis nodded, feeling faint when Harry wrapped her fingers around her wrist, pulling her towards the entrance. She almost dropped her skateboard in her haste to comply.

“C’mon, I already rented the clubs and stuff. We just gotta grab them and then we’re good to go.”

“Okay,” Louis said, letting herself be drug along. It was easier when they’d first hung out, when Harry had been shy and nervous and Louis could lead the conversation. Now Harry seemed more comfortable with her, which was a blessing and a curse. Louis liked to see a more confident Harry, but now she’d been thrown off her game and every time Harry touched her she felt further and further from it. She barely even registered Harry pulling her to the bathroom until she was closing the door behind them and the lock was clicking into place. “Wha - ?”

Harry slung her backpack onto the sink and opened it, pulling a bright pink bong from inside.

“I - ” Louis sputtered, her eyes wide and fixed on the bong at hand. “Umm!”

“Oh,” Harry said, her face falling at Louis’ reaction. “Sorry. I, um, I just assumed. You know. Like. Like I figured you would.  _ You know _ . I should have asked.”

“No,” Louis rushed to say, stopping Harry as she started to open her backpack again. “No, no. Shit. I was just, like. Surprised. Like. I wasn’t expecting that. I, uh, I  _ do _ . Like yeah. Very much. Good idea.”

“Oh,” Harry said again, this time with a small smile. “You wanna...?”

She held it out to Louis expectantly.

“Yeah, thanks.”

Louis took it and lowered herself to the ground, crossing her legs and setting the base on the intersection of her ankles, and took the decoupaged altoids tin that Harry offered her. She flicked it open, smiling at the collage of stickers and magazine clippings on the outside, and started packing the bowl with the buds inside. Harry knelt down to sit across from her, watching with more interest than was probably warranted. When Louis set her lips against the top and started flicking the lighter she’d had in her pocket she glanced up to see Harry biting her own lip. Louis pulled away the bowl and lifted her chin, blowing out a chain of smoke rings and watching Harry’s eyes as she followed the movement of her mouth.

Louis silently thanked the summer she and Zayn spent competing to see who could get better at smoke rings.

She passed the bong back to Harry who repeated her actions, repacking and lighting the bowl with her lips pressed to the top. Louis watched the way her eyelashes fanned across her cheeks and fluttered, and the sheen her lip gloss left along the mouth of the bong. Then she was stuck staring at the tiny smear of lip gloss that was smudged down towards her chin and the pretty shape Harry’s mouth made when she let the smoke pour out in a thin wispy stream.

Louis wished that she could blame the weed for her fixation on the other girl’s lips.

They passed it back and forth a few more times, growing fuzzier with each hit as a golden feeling started spreading from Louis’ chest. She figured Harry must share the feeling, if her dopey bleary-eyed smile was anything to go by.

“You ready?” Harry asked after a while when Louis realized they’d been holding eye contact for maybe too long.

“Yeah,” Louis nodded, even though neither of them made a move to leave.

Eventually Harry started to giggle and unfolded her limbs, stumbling up to her feet and grabbing Louis’ hand to pull her up beside her.

“C’mon, I don’t want our time to run out.”

Together they repacked Harry’s bag, grinning and bumping shoulders all the while.

By the time they got onto the course and each had a club in hand Louis was feeling well on her way to high. They’d played through a few holes when she suddenly realized that Harry was talking and that she was probably talking to  _ her _ .

“Oh shit,” she said, dropping her club in the grass and turning fully towards the other girl. “Were you talking? There’s a windmill over there and I started looking at it and it was, like, turning you know? And I completely didn’t hear anything you just said.”

“That’s a really good windmill,” Harry told her, very seriously.

“Right?” Louis said, looking at it again. “It keeps turning.”

“I want a windmill,” Harry told her, eyes big and glassy. “Like, in my house. When I have a house someday.”

“That’d be so cool,” Louis nodded, her tongue feeling thick and sticky. “Windmill.”

“Will you buy me a windmill?”

“I’ll buy you a million windmills.”

“My windmill daddy.”

“Your what?” Louis laughed, probably snorting but she didn’t really care.

“Like my sugar daddy,” Harry giggled. “But just windmills.”

“Your windmill daddy,” Louis repeated, feeling the words in her mouth. “I could be your windmill daddy. I’d buy you all the windmills you want.”

“Yayy,” Harry cheered.

“Wait what were you saying?”

“What?” Harry frowned, her lips pursed in a pout.

“Before. Before the windmills. You were saying something I think.”

Harry stood in deep concentration, a small furrow building between her brows as she wracked her brain for any short term memories.

“Fuck, I can’t remember.”

And then she was laughing and Louis was laughing too because Harry was the kind of person who was too beautiful to laugh alone.

The next hole took almost ten turns each to complete because Louis kept getting distracted by Harry’s hair and the halo that was created when the sunlight hit it.

“Your hair,” she started, having to swallow to try and combat the cottony feeling in her mouth. “It’s like. The texture. It’s good. Shiny but, like, curly. Kinda gold.”

“Thanks,” Harry grinned, wide and goofy and lovely. “You can touch it if you want.”

Louis looked down and realized her hand had already been raised up towards Harry’s head. She moved it the rest of the way and buried her fingers in the shoulder-length mess of curls and giggled at the feeling.

“It’s good,” she told Harry, who nodded appreciatively. “It’s like petting my dog, but like,  _ better. _ ”

“Better than a dog?” Harry asked excitedly. “I  _ love _ dogs.”

“And babies,” Louis added, still feeling the soft crinkly texture of Harry’s hair between her fingers.

“You remembered,” Harry smiled.

“Yeah.”

They stood there for a moment just looking at each other, surrounded by children and windmills and disapproving mothers, until Harry wrapped her fingers around Louis’ wrist and guided her hand from her hair to her knee, covered by her raspberry colored corduroy pants.

“Feel this.”

“Holy shit.”

“Right?”

“You know what we fucking  _ need? _ ” Louis asked suddenly, still bent over with her fingers still rubbing over the fabric on Harry’s knee.

“What?”

“Bugles.”

“Holy _ shit _ , dude,” Harry gasped. “I  _ have _ those! At my house! Let’s fucking  _ go! _ ”

“ _ Yes! _ ” Louis yelled, startling the young couple at the next hole over. “But wait, are you sure we should go to your house? Like, I don’t want it to be weird, you know? I’m afraid I’ll make it weird.”

“It won’t be weird,” Harry told her earnestly. “It’ll be  _ Bugles _ .”

“Okay.”

Before she knew it they were sitting on Harry’s couch, an open bag of Bugles between them and the golf course feeling like a hazy before - not quite part of the now anymore. Ren and Stimpy was on TV and Harry’s knee was pressed firmly into Louis’ thigh. There was a big poster of Joey Ramone holding a cat on the wall and Louis had been glaring at it for what might have been hours but was probably fifteen minutes.

She wondered if Harry had been the one to put up the poster, or if it had been her illusive roommate. She could picture Harry, balanced on a chair with thumbtacks between her teeth, pinning up the poster and sitting across from it everyday. She wondered if there were more in Harry’s bedroom. It made her jealous, illogically so, thinking about Harry’s poster. Louis had the selfish thought that wanted to be the only one Harry was pinning on her walls and looking at. She wanted Harry front row at every one of her shows, eyes locked on Louis and only her. She wanted to be Harry’s favorite and she wanted to sling her arms around Harry as soon as she got off stage to make sure that everyone knew she belonged to Louis.

It was ridiculous, but Louis was a ridiculous kind of person.

She was still sitting fixated on the poster, cartoons playing on the TV below, when she felt something scrape against her cheek. 

“Look, Lou,” Harry giggled, crooking her fingers which were each tipped with a Bugle. “I've got witch fingers!”

“Spooky,” Louis snorted, snapping her teeth playfully when Harry ran her chip-covered fingers over her cheek again. 

“No!” Harry shrieked, pulling her feet up and falling back against the arm rest. “Those are my fingers!”

“Are they?” Louis asked, leaning into her space and grabbing her hand to inspect it. She pulled it closer and stuck out an inquisitive tongue to lick over one finger. “No. Tastes like Bugle.”

She bit the chip and pulled it off of Harry's finger tip, chewing it loudly and drowning out Harry's protests.

“You ate my finger!”

“You've got four more.”

Harry looked back down at her hand with a sense of wonder. 

“I've got so many,” she said, carefully prying each chip off with her teeth. “This is awesome. You're awesome.”

“Bugles are awesome.”

“I wanna marry a bag of Bugles.”

“Bugles.”

“Bugles.”

“Windmill.”

“Windmill.”

Harry tipped forward, laying her head in Louis’ lap and draping her hand over Louis’ knee, scratching at her jeans with her fingernail. 

“Touch my hair some more. That felt nice.”

“Alright,” Louis nodded, both hands already buried in Harry's curls.

“I think I'm not as stoned any more,” Harry said later when Ren and Stimpy had morphed into Rugrats and Louis had thought she'd fallen asleep. “Just a little bit. I'm all, like. Buzzy, ya know? It's nice.”

“I think you're still stoned, babe,” Louis laughed, scratching lightly at her scalp. “Like off your tits stoned.”

“Tits,” Harry repeated with a grin. 

“Yes?” Louis asked, holding back a laugh. “What about them?”

“They're good,” Harry giggled. “I love tits.”

“Don't we all?”

“You've got good tits,” Harry mused, worming her fingers into the holes in Louis’ jeans and stroking over the bristly hairs on her knees. 

“Thanks,” Louis snorted, tugging a few of Harry's curls.

“ _ Great _ tits,” Harry corrected. 

“Can you stop calling them tits?” Louis laughed. “That sounds so sleazy.”

“Ya got great tits, Sweetheart,” Harry said, pretending to hold a cigar between her teeth. “Some nice jugs. Phenomenal set a’ knockers.”

“Jesus christ,” Louis laughed, slapping her on the arm. “You're awful!”

Harry had twisted in her lap and was looking up at her with a pout. Louis rubbed her arm where she'd slapped it but the pout stayed in place.

“Now what?”

“You didn't say it back.”

“Say what back?” Louis asked.

“Nice tits,” Harry frowned. “If someone compliments your boobs you should say it back. It's polite.”

“Sorry, I never took etiquette lessons, I didn't know there was a protocol.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

Harry arched her back and pushed up her chest expectantly.

“You've got an absolutely bangin’ pair of bazookas, Harry.”

“Thank you,” Harry grinned proudly. “I used to always wish they were bigger but now I kinda like ‘em. They're, like, fun-size, you know? I think they're kinda cute.”

“Very cute.”

“Plus they still do the boob-shelf thing.”

“The boob-shelf thing?” Louis asked incredulously. 

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, her head still pillowed in Louis’ lap. “You know. Like when you're playing guitar and your boobs just sort of rest on it like - “

She flattened her own hand and held it under her chest, making a lifting motion. 

“ _ Oh, _ ” Louis said. “The  _ boob-shelf  _ thing. That's a good thing.”

“A fucking great thing.”

“I didn't know you played guitar.”

“I don't,” Harry shrugged, reaching up to play with Louis’ necklace that was dangling over her head. “Not like you. You actually  _ play _ , like in front of people and stuff. I just dick around at home sometimes.”

“I wanna hear you,” Louis told her.

“No!” Harry laughed. “The last time I played in front of anyone was my eighth grade talent show and I almost threw up. I'm not gonna play in front of  _ you! _ You're, like, an actual Musician. You'd actually know how bad I am.”

“I'm not a Musician,” Louis scoffed, copying Harry's reverent capitalization. “I've got a band. Everyone has a band. That doesn't mean I'm any good. I only play power chords.”

“ _ I  _ don't have a band,” Harry argued, “and you're really good. Like honestly.  _ So _ good. You have to promise to put me on the guest list when you play, like, Madison Square Garden someday.”

“I don’t think that’ll be happening any time soon,” Louis told her self-deprecatingly.

“You gotta promise, Louis,” Harry said earnestly, sitting up and shifting around to face her.

“Alright,” Louis conceded. “If some miracle happens and I become rich and famous you can live in my tour bus and I’ll buy you every kind of fucking windmill there is.”

“Yes!” Harry grinned triumphantly. “My windmill daddy!”

“Your fucking  _ windmill daddy. _ ”


	5. lips like wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song:  
> [She's So Lovely by The Butchies](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cZACdNz46qY)

_ the production on c.p. tapes is always really amazing and i know shes just using some little 8track or something in her bedroom but she’s got this way of making it all seem so imtimate like she’s singing right in ur ear. like it gives me goosebumps when i listen with my headphones cause it feels like she’s sitting right next to you singing just for you and it’s almost too much but it a good way. sometimes if i’m lonely or like sad or whatever i’ll turn off all the lights in my room and lay on the floor and listen to my favorite c.p. tape with headphones on and just really pay attention to all the words and i can kind of pretend that she’s there and sh’es singing to me. _

_ that might be creepy. _

_ it probably is creepy. _

_ i’m creepy. _

-Louis Tomlinson _,_   _ The Search For Cherry Pop,  _ Vol. 3

 

Louis wasn't sure if she would ever get used to how pretty Harry was. It had been more than a week since they'd started hanging out but when Harry opened her door and stepped out to meet her she was still struck by how _achingly_ _pretty_ Harry was. She’d have thought she might have built up some immunity but it still hit her just as hard as ever. 

Harry stood shimmering like some otherworldly creature in the moonlight in a silvery gray velvet dress with sheer black tights and shiny black Beatle boots on her feet. Louis wanted to gather the material in her hands until the velvet was crushed and crinkled and her hand prints were all over it. Harry's hair was pinned back out of her face with pink plastic barrettes and curling around her ears and Louis wanted to sink her fingers into her curls and muss them around until not a single stand lay flat. Her lips were blooming with a dark berry color and Louis wanted it smeared across her face, wanted to see the color staining her own fingers, her neck, her anything. She wanted to be covered in Harry.

She might have felt woefully inadequate in her homemade  _ Heavens to Betsy _ t-shirt and Dickies if Harry hadn't been looking at her the way she was.

Which looked a little bit like Harry wanted to eat her.

Or maybe kiss her.

Violently, either way.

“Am I overdressed?” she asked once they were standing beside each other on the sidewalk. Louis had invited her to see another local band when Harry told her that she hadn’t gone to many shows in town.

“Of course not,” Louis told her. “I'm underdressed if anything.”

“You're perfect,” Harry argued, and then they were walking, their shoulders brushing with each step and their fingers tangling together without much thought. Louis hid her smile in her shoulder while Harry wrinkled her nose beside her. 

The house show was less than a mile away but by the time they got there the first band was already playing. Louis paid a few dollars at the door for their admission and then they were squeezing into what must have usually been a combination living room/dining room/kitchen. It was packed full of sweaty kids all bouncing in place and crowded around the band in the far corner of the room, lit only by a floor lamp behind the drumset. Louis kept hold of Harry's hand and pulled her in further until they found a few open feet of space towards the middle. 

The sound was nearly deafening this close to the amps and Louis had to shout to be heard even with her lips brushing Harry's ear.

“ _ YOU OKAY? _ ”

“ _ YEAH, _ ” Harry shouted back, nodding with a grin. “ _ THEY'RE GOOD. _ ”

“ _ YEAH, _ ” Louis agreed, feeling the energy of the room build.

The band had two boys playing bass and guitar but they were letting the girl on drums and the girl singing take the lead on each song. She couldn't make out any of the lyrics through the distortion but the girl was singing and screaming with so much emotion that Louis didn't think she really needed to know the lyrics to understand them. The drums were fast and the guitar was wailing and it wasn't long before people were starting to shove each other and move around. In such a small place there wasn't enough room to form a proper pit so everyone just glommed together as one big flailing cloud of elbows and knees and sweaty faces. 

A stocky boy in a wet t-shirt barreled into Louis shoulder-first and she was pressed hard against Harry who would have fallen if not for the tightly packed wall of people just behind her.

“ _ SORRY, _ ” Louis shouted, squeezing Harry's arm and straightening up, but Harry was smiling, completely unfazed.

Then Harry was knocked forward and Louis had to grab her to keep her upright. She couldn't hear it but Harry was laughing, her face lit up and her mouth stretched wide. There was a bit of glitter near her eye and Louis wanted desperately to kiss her. A sweaty living room mosh pit wouldn't be a good place for kissing though, and Louis knew it. They'd probably end up with broken noses and loosened teeth if they put their faces too close together right then but God did Louis want to risk it. And Harry would probably let her, if she tried. She was pretty sure. Maybe.

Instead she placed a firm hand in the middle of Harry's back to keep her on her feet. She sent Louis a quick appreciative smile so Louis assumed it was okay. She could feel the soft prickly velvet of her dress under her fingers, slightly damp from the heat, and the elastic waistband of her tights where her skin was pinched in and spilled out over the top. It was distracting and Louis was almost knocked to the floor because of it but she never wanted to feel anything else.

They spent the rest of the set like that, Louis’ hand splayed out across Harry's back, sometimes dipping into the curve of her waist or curling around her hip, and their elbows pointed out to fend off any stray limbs. Louis could feel her heart swelling in her chest everytime they were knocked together and she had Harry’s boney knees jamming into her legs or the soft press of Harry’s hip against hers, so close she could feel their bones grinding together through layers of fat and skin and clothing and sweat. She was sure she’d have bruises in the morning and she couldn’t wait to catalogue which had come from Harry. She hoped Harry would have a few from her in return.

By the time they stepped outside it was after midnight and the crisp night air felt like being drenched in cold water after suffocating for so long in the humid greenhouse-like living room. Harry sucked in a deep breath as if drinking in the air and let it out in a cloud of fog.

“I can see your breath,” Louis said, noticing the goose bumps on Harry’s arms and the light tremors coming off of her. “Here.”

Louis untied her red plaid flannel from around her waist and held it out to Harry.

“That’s all right,” Harry tried to shrug her off. “I don’t want you to get cold.”

“I’ll be fine,” Louis told her. “I’m wearing pants. You’re not. You’ll get cold faster.”

“I’ve got tights,” Harry argued.

“Not pants.”

Harry still didn’t take the flannel, though she was eyeing it enviously.

“Harry,” Louis all but pleaded. “Please. I’m trying to be chivalrous. At least let me pretend that I’m saving you from the cold. It’ll do wonders for my ego.” 

Harry smiled, so Louis took it for a win. When she offered the flannel up again Harry relented and slipped her arms into the sleeves, rubbing her wrists together contentedly. They started walking again, stumbling a bit in the darkness between street lamps and Harry’s hand finding its way back into Louis’ within a few steps. Somehow even after spending hours pressed against Harry the hot sticky feeling of her sweaty fingers weaving through her own made Louis’ heart swell up like a balloon and twist itself into the shape of a wiener dog in her chest. She couldn’t help but smile, looking up at the moon as if in thanks.

They’d been walking for a while when Louis noticed the playground in front of them that they hadn’t passed on their way to the show.

“This isn’t your house,” she pointed out needlessly, slowing to a stop.

“Umm, no,” Harry agreed as though just noticing their surroundings.

“Where are we?” Louis asked, peering into the shadows of the neighborhood they’d been wandering through.

“I don’t know,” Harry shrugged. “I’ve been following you.”

“Why would you do that? I’ve been following  _ you _ .”

“Oh,” Harry said sheepishly. “But I didn’t wanna go home yet.”

“You could have just told me,” Louis said, pulling her into the playground with a smile. “Brat.”

“Sorry,” Harry said, not sounding sorry at all.

Louis let her hand fall from Harry’s and hopped up to grab hold of the monkey bars attached to the play structure, swinging through them with ease and propelling herself onto the first plasticy platform. She looked back at Harry with a triumphant grin and found her still pouting where Louis had left her.

“I’ve never been able to do monkey bars,” Harry told her petulantly. “I always fall.”

“That’s cause you’re like a newborn giraffe,” Louis teased, holding out her hand until Harry came forward to take it. “You know when they’re born they just sort of fall straight out onto the ground? Like the mom’s still standing. The babies fall, like, ten feet or whatever so they’re probably all disoriented when suddenly they’re just, like,  _ there _ .”

Harry lifted one foot onto the platform and Louis took hold of both her hands.

“That’s you. You always look like you just fell ten feet and it’s the first time you’ve used any of your limbs.”

Louis pulled her up, leaning back until Harry was standing just in front of her.

“Is that one of your useless facts?” Harry asked, their faces suddenly inches apart.

“Yeah,” Louis nodded. “I said I’ve got loads of them, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

Louis couldn’t see her as well in the shadowy moonlight and the weird yellowish flickers from the street lamps but Harry still looked as lovely as ever and her lips still looked as kissable as lips had ever looked and Louis felt as useless as any of her stupid facts in her presence.

“I’ll race you down the slides?” she asked, when all she’d wanted to ask was  _ Can I kiss you? _

“Of course,” Harry nodded, her face falling just enough for Louis to notice in the dim light. Louis pulled her to the other side of the structure to where a big slide was divided into three sections. She sat down on one end with her legs pointed down the plastic slide and Harry perched herself on the opposite end, their hands joined in the middle over the small dividers. Harry’s legs almost seemed to reach the bottom before they’d even started while Louis’ barely passed halfway.

“1... 2... 3...!”

Louis counted off and they pushed off from the top, slipping down faster than expected on the dew-wet plastic that sent them flying down and tumbling into a heap in the wood chips.

“ _ Oh my god _ ,” Harry laughed, sprawling out on the ground and grinning up at the sky.

Louis just nodded, resting her head on the lip of the slide and slumping back with a goan.

Harry tilted her head back to look up at her, berry lips shining with a wide smile. The skirt of her dress had rucked up over her thighs but she didn’t seem to care. She was completely covered in wood chips, her hair curling around the pieces and clinging onto them.

She was beautiful, and Louis didn’t know how to handle it.

“You’ve got wood chips in your hair,” she told her.

“So do you,” Harry grinned, sitting up until they were eye-to-eye.

“My hair’s short,” Louis shrugged. “It’ll come out in, like, two seconds. I’m not too sure about yours though.”

She reached up and pulled a hunk of wood from just over Harry’s ear, twisting and moving it gently until every strand of hair fell loose. She kept her eyes on Harry to watch for any wincing but Harry remained frozen with her gaze locked on Louis, her eyes dark and her lip caught between her own teeth. Louis could feel Harry’s breath on her wrist and on her own face and it made her feel big and airy like every molecule in her body was expanding all at once. She reached for another wood chip, combing her fingers through Harry’s hair as gently as she could and watching how Harry’s eyes seemed to dart around her face and how her breathing got sharper with each touch.

“Lou,” she whispered when Louis’ fingers grazed her neck. She brought up her own hand and softly rested her fingers just over the bone in Louis’ wrist.

“I - ”

“I - ”

They both spoke at once and quickly cut themselves off.

Harry brushed her thumb over Louis’ forearm, making goosebumps rise on her arms. Louis panicked, noticing how close they’d gotten and jumping up with a start.

“Umm,” she mumbled, shaking the wood chips loose from her hair and stepping back from Harry as the taller girl climbed to her feet. “Did you have fun at the show?”

“Yeah.”

Harry was frowning.

“Do you wanna go on the swings?”

“Sure.”

Louis lead her to the shiny metal swing set and sat down on the lower swing, leaving the taller one for Harry and her endless legs. By the time they started pumping their legs and properly swinging Harry was smiling again, even if it was dimmer than before, and Louis felt more at ease.

“Did you really like it? It was kind of sweaty and too-loud and I don’t always like those kind of shove-y crowds where there’s not enough room to actually dance but I thought it was fun. I mean, like, it would have been fun no matter what. Cause, like. Hanging out with you is fun.”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, smiling down at her knees while she swung her feet. “I haven’t been to a lot of shows like that. But it was fun. Different. But I liked it.”

“What kind of shows do you usually go to?”

“The, like, assigned seat kind,” Harry laughed, looking to Louis as if for approval. “I saw Stevie Nicks in concert right before I moved and it felt like a spiritual experience, you know? Like, transcendent or something. I can never decide if I wanna be her or marry her more. Other than that I’ve been going to lots of acoustic, like, singer-songwriter type shows. My roommate plays a lot at, like, bars and open mic nights and things so she brings me a lot. I’ve gotten to see a lot of people who I ended up really liking.”

“That’s nice,” Louis hummed, kicking her feet. “It’s good to just get out, see people like that. And It’s nice of you to support your roommate.”

“I love her music,” Harry smiled. “It might be my favorite right now. Sometimes she plays songs for me before she adds them to her set and she gets so nervous about it but they’re all so good, I don’t think she’s capable of writing a bad one. I don’t think she believes me though because I like all of them so she doesn’t think I’m a reliable source anymore.”

Louis laughed and leaned back on an upwards swing so that for a few seconds all she could see were stars.

“I could play you some of mine,” she offered. “If you wanted. I’ve got lots that I haven’t played live yet because I don’t think they’re finished yet. But I could play them for you.”

“That’d be amazing,” Harry grinned. “I love your songs. Especially the one about, like, therapy. The ‘alright’ one. I think that one’s my favorite.”

Louis could feel her face heating up even in the cold night air.

She still couldn’t get the feeling of Harry’s lips out of her head.

“What about you?”

“Me?” Louis asked.

“Who’s your favorite?”

“There - ” Louis started, gearing up for her usual rant about Cherry Pop, the mysterious girl who she’d listened to and pined after and obsessed over and who wasn’t sitting on the swing just opposite of her, looking prettier than anything Louis could imagine in her head. “I dunno. I think you’re my favorite right now.”

Harry smiled, her swing slowing down to a soft syrupy glide.

“I think you’re my favorite too.”

 

Later, when the sun was just the faintest suggestion, giving the clouds on the very edge of the horizon the slightest bit of a glow, Louis walked Harry back to her shared apartment, their hands intertwined the whole way.

“Hey Lou,” Harry said on the last block before her door.

“Yeah?”

“I think I wanna play. Like in front of people. My songs, I mean.”

“Really?” Louis grinned, squeezing her hand. “That’s really great, Haz. You should. I bet they’re all wonderful. Like, it’s  _ you _ so I don’t think it’d be possible for them to be anything short of absolutely fucking lovely. And you’ve got a nice voice. Talking, at least. I bet it’s even better singing.”

“Thanks,” Harry smiled shyly, twisting her body nervously. “I think I’ll start small. Make sure nobody absolutely hates me before I try and play something for real, you know?”

“Of course,” Louis nodded. “And I’ll be there front row screaming my head off the whole time.”

“No way,” Harry laughed. “I told you, I’m not playing my songs for you. That’d be embarrassing. I’m only gonna play secret shows so you can’t come. I’ll use a pseudonym and everything so you can’t track me down.”

“I’ll figure it out anyway,” Louis teased. “I’ll join all the Harry Styles fanclubs and make connections with every venue in the city so I can show up at every show.”

“I’ll get my own team of security guards,” Harry countered, approaching her apartment. “They’ll print out pictures of you and check everyone at the door to make sure you can’t sneak in.”

“Damn,” Louis pouted, leaning against Harry’s front wall while she unlocked the door. “I’ll think of something. Maybe a disguise. A mustache or something.”

“Maybe,” Harry agreed.

“I should probably head home,” Louis said, biting her cheek.

“Yeah,” Harry frowned. “Are you sure you should be walking back alone so late? I can walk with you if you want.”

“And who would walk  _ you _ home?” Louis asked. “I’d have to do it and we’d be stuck walking back and forth all night.”

“I guess,” Harry shrugged. “I just feel like you always walk home alone. I feel like a shitty date.”

Date.

Louis’ brain seemed to short-circuit for a moment until she could only comprehend four letters in existence.

_ Date. _

“You never even bring me flowers,” she said, as if on autopilot.

She’d thought  -  _ hoped _ \- that their hangouts might be dates but she hadn’t wanted to get her hopes up too far.

“Do you like flowers?” Harry asked, suddenly looking concerned and earnest and lovely. “I would have brought you some but I wasn’t sure if it’d be, like, weird or anything. I’ve got some inside that I cut yesterday in this little patch behind the building. They might be a little wilted but I’m not sure if - ”

Louis hadn’t even fully registered that she was kissing Harry until Harry stopped talking and leaned into her. Her brain was running like a sped-up VHS tape, zipping around and around in disorienting circles. She was _ kissing _ Harry - technically their second kiss - and Harry was kissing back, the whole world empty and frozen around them. Louis pulled Harry in and held her tight as bruises formed on their knees and hips and necks, blooming soft and purple like the lavender sky over their heads.


	6. she is the one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song:  
> [She's The One by Heavens To Betsy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YddL8T97qK4)

_ i saw cherry pop. _

_ like actually real life saw her, like a week ago. _

_ she seems different than how i thoght she’d be, but like. it’s still cherry pop. so that’s cool. i don’t know. it’s weord. i thought i’d be, like, proposing to her on teh spot but it wasn’t like that. i juts kinda freaked out and ran away and then i couldn’t find her but like there’s this other girl i’ve been seeing who i think i might like more than i ever liked c.p. i mean of course i do i never actually knew c.p. but yeah. i saw her. _

_ i guess that’s the end of this zine. _

_ the search is over. _

-Louis Tomlinson, _ The Search for Cherry Pop,  _ Vol. 5 (Unpublished)

 

“No,” Zayn said resolutely, crossing her arms and shaking her head to cement her point. “I’m not doing it.”

“Please?” Liam asked, her eyes big and pleading. “Just once. You’d look so good.”

“I’m not buying overalls just so you can pretend I’m Jordan Knight.”

“Jonathan,” Liam corrected. “I never liked Jordan. But you wouldn’t have to buy them, you can just wear mine.”

“I’m not wearing them,” Zayn told her. “It’d be, like, degrading or something. Weird, at least. You thinking about some guy while we fuck. Gross.”

“No, it’s not like that,” Liam frowned. “It’s like, I had that poster in my room when I was younger where he’s got like the overalls and the orange sweatshirt on? And I used to, like,  _ look _ at it, you know, when I would, like,  _ you know _ , and I didn’t even realise it but half the time I was making him into a girl in my head but I didn’t even know I  _ liked _ girls then and then when I met you it started turning into _ you _ in my head so really this would be, like, the amalgamation of my entire sexual awakening.”

Zayn pursed her lips.

“That’s, like, kind of sweet when you put it like that.”

“So you’ll do it?” Liam beamed.

“No.”

“But - ” Liam gasped, pouting.

“It’d still be weird.”

“I’ve never asked you for anything before! It’s just this once!”

“Last week you made me put on  _ Step By Step _ while we made out.”

Liam fixed her with a calculating look.

“What if I do the Catwoman thing for you?”

Zayn went silent, and Liam’s smile started to grow smugly.

“What the fuck is wrong with you both?” Louis asked from beside them. “Can we not go _one_ _day_ without you two making me wish for a fucking lobotomy? I swear.”

Liam and Zayn both turned to her as if they’d forgotten she was there, even though they’d been insistent on her joining them. Liam’s friend Shawn and some of her friends were doing an acoustic show at one of the smaller venues in town and wanted to fill a few more seats so Louis had been drug along in support. So far it had been a good show with mostly female musicians and a few spoken word pieces woven into the lineup. Plus Zayn bought her one of the overpriced beers at the bar when they got there so she could almost put up with her and Liam.

“Sorry, Lou,” Zayn said in a brief moment of sympathy before she turned back to Liam, lowering her voice only half as much as she should have. “You'd really do it? Like for real? You know I've had the costume for, like, months.”

“Do you think you could learn  _ ‘I’ll Be Loving You’? _ Can we find somewhere with a pool table?”

Louis groaned, knocking her head against the table despondently and regretting every time she encouraged Liam to embrace her teenage crush.

“Kill me,” she pleaded to the faux wood grain. “Please. I can't take any more of this.”

“Louis!!” she heard from over her shoulder. She looked up to see Bebe, another local musician who she'd exchanged zines with before. “Did you hear?”

“About Zayn and Liam's weird sex life?”

“What? No,” Bebe shook her head, her eyes a bit frantic. “Cherry Pop. She's here.”

“What?” Louis asked, her eyes searching around the room for a shock of bleach-blonde hair. Her heart sped up for a moment, a pavlovian response to hearing the name Cherry Pop outloud. Then she thought of Harry and the way she’d melted against her while they kissed and her heart seemed to swell up in her chest, slowing down to match the sweet lazy pace that their kissing had taken as the sun rose.

“I heard from Clare who organised the lineup,” Bebe explained, slipping into the chair beside Louis. “Apparently she was added super last minute so they haven’t announced anything. I’m not sure when she’s going on, though. Probably towards the end of the show. Like, it’s  _ Cherry Pop _ . Nobody’s seen her live before, they’re not gonna throw her on first.”

“Of course,” Louis nodded, catching the quickest flash of a blonde crew cut heading backstage. “It’ll be cool. To see her, and everything. Been wanting to for forever.”

“Why aren’t you freaking out?” Bebe frowned. “I thought you were gonna, like, punch me in the face in ecstasy and go running off in search of an engagement ring.”

“Yeah,” Louis shrugged, her cheeks heating up. “I, uh, I kind of gave up on the Cherry Pop thing. Like, obviously the music’s amazing. I’m sure she’s amazing. But then I met Harry and now it all seems so silly, you know? Feels kinda weird.”

“No I get it,” Bebe nodded, poking her arm with a mischievous smile. “So. Harry, huh? Who’s she? Do I know her?”

“Shut up,” Louis grinned.

“I didn’t know you had a  _ girlfriend _ ,” Bebe teased. “Someone’s finally making an honest woman out of you? When can I meet her?”

“Fuck off,” Louis laughed, taking a sip of her beer. “None of you are ever meeting her. I don’t want to subject her to all of...  _ that. _ ”

Louis raised her glass to gesture to Liam and Zayn across from them, Zayn’s fingers in Liam’s mouth and her lips against Liam’s ear.

“Should we do something?” Bebe asked, looking around for someone coming to tell them off. “I feel like they’ll get kicked out soon.”

“It’d probably be good for them,” Louis shrugged. “They do this everywhere. It’s awful. It’d be, like, karma or whatever. Builds character.”

Louis spent the next two acts in a sort of a daze, laughing with Bebe and throwing peanut shells across the table at Liam and Zayn and wondering what Harry would think of the girls on stage. Clare, the organizer of the show, was playing keys and singing in a bright clear voice while her girlfriend Sarah played hard and fast drums, throwing her whole body into every movement and playing just quietly enough not to drown Clare out. Louis applauded as their last song faded out.

“I liked them,” she told Bebe while Clare and Sarah moved their gear around onstage and the crowd broke into a buzz of small talk. 

“Yeah,” Bebe nodded,craning her neck to try and see past the small wooden stage to the shadowed walkway behind it. “Do you think Cherry Pop will be next? It's getting late and I don't think there'll be too many more acts. Seems like it's starting to wrap up a little. I think there's just two or three people left.”

“I don't know,” Louis shrugged, a small thrill running up her back and making her fidget with her hands. Even if she wasn't in love with real life Cherry Pop she was still in love with her music and she'd been waiting to see her live for months and months. She tapped her toes impatiently, waiting for the blonde butch girl from the party to come walking out on stage. 

Instead, the lights dimmed and a girl with curly brown hair stepped up with a well-worn baby pink Strat draped across her chest.

“Is that her?” Bebe asked, grabbing Louis’ arm excitedly. “That's gotta be her.”

“No, it's not.” Louis shook her head in disbelief, grinning as her heart fluttered in her chest. “It's Harry.”

“ _ Your  _ Harry?”

The girl in question was fiddling with her guitar, testing the tuning and the knobs and plugging into a set of pedals at her feet before perching primly on the stool in the center of the stage. 

“Yeah,” Louis nodded proudly. “Now shut up. I need to hear her set.”

“Umm, hi,” Harry said into the mic, her voice amplified and echoey and shakey. Louis briefly wondered if she should leave and get permission before hearing Harry play, but then Harry started picking out a repetitive rolling melody and Louis found she couldn't move. Her jaw dropped as Harry looped the melody and built upon it, layering her guitar over itself until it turned into a song, smooth and wistful and so so familiar that Louis felt her heart freeze up in her chest. Then Harry started to sing and Louis’ breathing stopped completely. 

“Holy shit,” she murmured, feeling Bebe's wide eyes on her from beside her and Liam and Zayn’s from the other side of the table. “Holy  _ shit. _ ”

“Lou,” Liam started to say, her voice full of questions that Louis couldn't answer. 

“ _ Shhhhh! _ ” Louis hissed, leaning forward with her elbows on the table, trying to ingrain every second into her memory while trying to process everything around her.

Harry was singing, the same smoke-hazy-sweet-as-honey voice that had been haunting Louis’ dreams for nearly a year, plucking out the same melody that Louis had been obsessively trying to copy on her own guitar, and playing the same song that Louis had listened to and cried to and fallen asleep to until the tape had nearly worn through. She was there, on the stage, the same Harry who had bought her a Carole King tape and shared her weed and danced with her and held her hand and kissed her before she even knew her.

Harry.

Cherry Pop.

The two loves of Louis’ life.

One lovely, magnificent person.

“ _ Holy shit. _ ”

“Isn't that - ?”

“It's  _ her _ ,” Louis breathed, a shocked kind of grin growing on her face. She beamed up at the stage, giggling silently and squeezing her arms around herself as if to contain all the giddiness radiating out of her. “I kissed Cherry Pop.”

She didn't understand it and could still only barely believe it, but she was vibrating in place and couldn't take her eyes off of the girl on stage, still trying to connect her with the girl she'd kissed against the side of her house as the sun rose. Louis could almost cry.

She nearly  _ did _ cry, her eyes getting misty as Harry played through two more of Louis’ favorite songs, her voice growing more confident and her strumming getting stronger. She felt so full of love and pride and excitement that she was nearly bursting at the seams. Harry was hers and she was Harry’s and Harry just so happened to be Cherry Pop.

When Harry’s last song ended and the crowd erupted into a round of cheering and applause Louis let out an ear-splitting whistle and slapped her hands together as hard as she could, tilting her head back with a loud whoop. The other girls at her table were still whipping their heads between Louis and the stage, trying to work out what exactly had happened in the last ten minutes. They all opened their mouths at once to speak as soon as Harry stepped off stage but Louis was already out of her seat, weaving through the crowd and practically sprinting to follow Harry backstage.

She found her in a tiny closet-sized green room that was blissfully empty.

Harry glanced up when she heard the door open and her eyes went wide, her knuckles white where they were clutching her guitar.

“Lou - ” she started to say, her cheeks going pink.

“Put your guitar down.”

Louis took a slow step into the room, pulling the door closed behind her.

Harry hesitated for a moment before complying, leaning the Strat against a chair strings-down and straightening up.

“What - ?”

She didn’t get to finish because Louis was kissing her, interrupting once again and hoping that Harry didn’t mind. She pulled her close, fisting the back of Harry’s shirt and licking desperately into her mouth. Harry wound her fingers in Louis’ hair and kissed back just the same.

“It’s you,” Louis gasped when they finally broke apart. “You’re her.”

“What do you mean?” Harry frowned, tugging at the shorter hair at the base of Louis’ neck. “I’m me?”

“Cherry Pop,” Louis said, watching Harry’s eyes go wide again. “It’s you.”

“Who told you about Cherry Pop?” Harry asked, her brows furrowed. Her hands slipped down to Louis’ shoulders but Louis kept a firm hold of her waist to keep her close.

“No one,” Louis shook her head. “I’ve got all your tapes. Or I think all of them. I’ve got a lot.”

“Oh,” Harry said, biting her lip. “I didn’t think anyone actually listened to those.”

“I’ve got a lot of zines to show you when we get home.”

“Your home or...?”

“Mine, yeah,” Louis nodded. “If you want. I’ve got a lot of stuff to show you. Lots of stuff to ask you.”

“Okay,” Harry agreed, smiling softly. “Yeah.”

“I can’t believe you’re Cherry Pop,” Louis said, pressing their foreheads together. “Do you know how crazy you’ve made me? I’ve been fucking  _ obsessed _ with your tapes for forever. I was sure I was gonna die wondering what you looked like and who were but here you are. You’re  _ you.  _ I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

“Really?” Harry grinned, crossing her wrists behind Louis’ head. “You were obsessed with me?”

“Still am,” Louis nodded, pressing a quick kiss to Harry’s lips. “Just wait till you see all the zines. Liam and Zayn both think they’re creepy. They’re all about you.”

“Good,” Harry told her, returning the kiss. “Don’t want you writing about anyone else.”

“Neither do I.”

Later, once their lips were swollen and bruised and they’d both been thoroughly kissed, they walked back to Louis’ table with their hands clasped together and matching grins on their faces.

“Everybody,” Louis said with a flourish, laughing at the twin expressions on Liam and Zayn’s faces, “this is my girlfriend, Harry.”

“You’re Cherry Pop?” Zayn asked, still looking between them.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, smiling. “I guess I am.”

Louis slumped into the free chair, pulling Harry down onto her lap and wrapping her arms securely around her waist. She hooked her chin over Harry’s shoulder and settled in for the last act, pressing the occasional kiss against Harry’s neck. She got distracted for a while, nosing behind Harry’s ear and under her jaw until she heard someone clear their throat on stage. She looked up to find the blonde butch from the party with a guitar strapped across her chest.

“Hey,” she grinned, pulling the guitar pick from between her teeth. “I’m She’s On The Loose, and I’m gonna play a few songs for you all. Thanks for coming out tonight.”

“Who’s she?” Louis asked quietly, tightening her grip around Harry when the girl started to play. “I thought - But I don’t know how...”

“You thought what?” Harry asked, twisting in her grip and poking her cheek with one finger.

“Well, for a while I thought she was Cherry Pop.”

“What?” Harry barked, laughter bubbling up within her. “You thought she was  _ me? _ ”

“Yeah,” Louis shrugged, feeling sheepish.

“How? Why?”

“I saw her at this party and she was giving someone a tape and she  _ said _ it was hers but it was a Cherry Pop tape so, like, obviously I just  _ assumed _ ...”

“Did you see any other names on the tape?” Harry asked, seemingly delighted by the blush on Louis’ face.

“I dunno,” Louis shrugged. “I was kind of focused on the Cherry Pop thing.”

“It was probably one of our splits,” Harry explained, joining her hand with Louis’ where it as resting on her stomach. “That’s my roommate, Niall. She helps me with some of the recording stuff and we share tapes sometimes. I’d bet if you had looked a little closer you’d have seen it was one of our  _ Cherry Pop/She’s On The Loose _ splits.”

“Oh,” Louis said dumbly, looking up to the stage and wondering how she could have mistaken this girl for the one on her lap. “Oops?”

“I can’t wait to tell her,” Harry grinned. “I can’t believe you thought she was me. She’ll think it’s hilarious.”

“Shut up,” Louis laughed, pinching Harry’s side and making her squirm. “Little Miss Harry Pop - ” Louis groaned “ - Oh my god, is that why you used that name? Because it rhymes?”

Harry beamed proudly.

“You’re the worst. I can’t believe I wrote so many zines about you.”

“You love me,” Harry insisted, kissing her cheek with a wet smack.

“I kind of totally do,” Louis grinned, watching Harry’s eyes light up and her dimple deepen.

“Me too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> And thank you so much to [girldirectionficfest](https://girldirectionfest.tumblr.com/) for organizing this, I had so much fun writing this fic and I can't wait to read everyone else's!!


End file.
